


crime fighting & clam chowder (it's better in california)

by writer_on_fire01



Category: Birds of Prey (Comic), DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Barbara Gordon in a Wheelchair, Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Canon-Typical Violence, Crime Fighting, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Dick/Babs but it's not really the main focus, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Vacation, lots of characters mentioned but I'm not gonna tag all of them, lots of fluff, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:55:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27305914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writer_on_fire01/pseuds/writer_on_fire01
Summary: Babs and Dick go on vacation. They bring Dinah, too, just for the hell of it. If they think they're going to get away from work, though, they're sorely mistaken.
Relationships: Barbara Gordon & Dick Grayson & Dinah Lance, Barbara Gordon & Dinah Lance, Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	crime fighting & clam chowder (it's better in california)

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: If you're coming here from one of my other fics, just keep in mind that I write Dinah from the comic books way differently than Dinah from the 2020 BOP movie. I treat them like entirely different characters because that's how I see them. Just seems worth mentioning :) 
> 
> Also, there may be some canon inconsistencies because honestly I sometimes have trouble keeping up with the comics. I got my sister to help me out with that but there still may be some little issues. Hope you enjoy nonetheless! This isn't really a serious fic at any rate, it's very, very silly.

“Come on, Barbara,” Dick urges Babs, placing a hand on her shoulder as she hunches over a computer, her fingers tapping relentlessly at the keys. “You’ve got to take a vacation.”

“Just let me finish this,” says Babs. She’s currently making an attempt to hijack the security of an old laundromat which she’s certain a group of criminals have made their home base. 

“Letting somebody else fight crime for a week or two wouldn’t hurt, would it, darling?” Dick leans down to kiss Babs on the top of the head like the romantic he is. “I actually know some people, yeah?”

“Only I can hack into such a dinosaur of a security camera,” Babs presses. “So old that I can’t even find any records of it online. Ugh. I can do it, though, it’ll just take another fifteen minutes or so.”

“Why can’t you just call up Dinah and have her bust on in there?” suggests Dick, his voice taking on a pleading tone. “I bet Wally would do it. He’d be in and out of there in seconds. Probably literally.” 

Babs rubs at her eyes, exhausted, with the palm of her hand. “Just let me finish hacking into this thing. Then I can secure the location and get somebody in there to take them out once and for all. Helena, maybe.” She’s not making the suggestion seriously; Helena is far too violent for a rather minor job like this. She had just been the first of Bab’s superhero friends to come to mind with her this tired. 

Dick then begins to administer a shoulder massage. 

“Damn you,” mutters Babs as she leans into his touch. “How do you expect me to finish like this?”

“I don’t,” says Dick. This sounds about right. “We’re taking vacation. Hawaii or the Bahamas? Or are you not a tropical kind of woman? Mountains? I’ll take you anywhere, babe.”

“How about an old, abandoned laundromat-turned-criminal-hideaway?”

“I retract my previous statement.” 

Babs gives an exasperated huff. She’s almost gotten in. A couple more lines of code should do the trick. 

“So, who are these guys, anyways?” asks Dick, leaning forward to gingerly place his chin on Babs’s shoulder. She can feel his breath on her neck. She should probably be more annoyed than she actually is. 

“Well,” starts Babs, relieved that Dick’s actually paying mind to the mission, “that’s part of what I’m trying to find out with getting into the cameras. It’s entirely possible they’ve duct-taped the lenses or something like that, but even then it’ll be a help.”

“How would that help?” asks Dick.

“Computer stuff.”

“Oh! That. Okay, keep going.” 

“Anyways, if we’re lucky they won’t have thought to block the camera and I’ll be able to see their faces. Send it in as some proof of what they’ve been up to.” 

At this moment, Babs’s screen shifts to a blurry, black and white picture that looks to be-- “Yes!” Babs pumps a fist into the air. “An abandoned laundromat. We’re in. Now I’ve just got to wait until they come in, and I’ll call Dinah in to take them out.”

“You go, babe.” Dick holds out a hand for Babs to high-five. She obliges with a grin. “Now, there’s a little bit of a flaw in your logic.”

“And what might that be?”

Dick mocks a thinking face, stroking an imaginary beard. “Oh, I don’t know, the fact that I’m taking you on vacation?”

Babs cringes away from his (admittedly adorable) thinking face.

“I don’t think so, dear. There’s a lot of work to be done. If I could bring my laptop…” She looks at Dick hopefully.

“No. No laptops, babe.” Dick leans over Babs’s shoulder and looks at the screen, grabbing at the tab that has the camera pulled up and jerking it around. It darts around the monitor in a manner which very nearly gives Babs a stroke as she grabs for the mouse. “Let’s just send this thingy-magig over to Timmy and he can finish up your Oracle-ing for the week. Nothing big, because nobody could ever compare to you and your devastating badassery, but just to finish up this case. There are other heroes in Gotham, babe.”

“I know, babe,” says Babs seriously, turning to face Dick. “But if you wanted devastating badassery you really should’ve stayed with Helena.” She physically grimaces as she says this, which makes Dick laugh.

“Not in a million years, hon. We’re going on vacation, at any rate.” Dick gives Babs a kiss before pulling up a new internet tab on her computer. “I’ll contact everyone. Dinah, to let her know Timmy’s gonna be helping her out instead of you, Timmy to let him know, uh, that he’s going to be helping Dinah out instead of you, and the airport to let them know that Ricky and Babsy are going on vacay.” He grins a wide grin.

“Please never call yourself Ricky again.”

“Duly noted.” He looks at Babs hopefully. Babs is reminded of a lost puppy begging for a corndog. “So, you in?” 

“Sure,” Babs says, mostly because she’s too exhausted to say no to Dick but partly because, if he wants to have getaway, who is she to turn up her nose? Maybe this whole thing is just an excuse for him to have a vacation without surrendering his manliness. “I’ll call Dinah for you, though. It’s been too long since I’ve talked with her.”

“Yay!” cries Dick, jumping a couple inches into the air and clapping his hands together. “So, where to? Cabin in the woods? Space? Beach? Paris? They say Paris is the most romantic city in the world, you know.”

“I did know that, actually,” says Babs.

“I’ve been practicing my _Francais_ ,” says Dick with a bad and completely inaccurate yet still somehow hot French accent. Babs knows it’s a joke, given that he’s fluent in the language. She’s reminded of those women who pretend to be dumb in hopes that men will find it attractive. The puzzling thing is that when Dick does it, it actually is. Strange.

“Didn’t it, like, not go that well the last time you visited Paris?” Babs reminds him.

“Right.” Dick’s face falls as he remembers the experience. He had wound up stranded on top of the Eiffel tower. “Well, no biggie! There are still so many options. Sky’s the limit, babe!” 

“Okay,” says Babs. She pulls her cellphone out of her pocket. “If you don’t mind…?”

“Of course, of course,” says Dick hurriedly. “I’ve got some important calls to make, too. But before I do that, you’ve gotta make up your mind, hon. Where in the world are Dick and Babs?”

“Surprise me.” 

“Happily!” 

Dick then dashes out of his room. He gets on the phone and Babs can hear him talking animatedly to who she can only assume is Tim. She dials Dinah’s number. 

“Sorry for calling so late,” she says once Dinah’s picked up, not even waiting for a greeting. “Hope I didn’t wake you.”

“You kidding? The Canary never sleeps,” insists Dinah. Contrary to her statement Babs thinks she sounds tired. 

“So Dick’s wrangling me into taking a vacation with him,” Babs announces, eyeing the security camera on her monitor suspiciously. She can hear Dick in her head shouting at her _this is a no-work zone_ or something ridiculous like that. She looks away. 

“Oooh, vacation with the Boy Wonder?” chirps Dinah enviously. “Woof.”

“Hey, why do you always say that?” asks Babs suddenly. Now that she thinks about it it’s a bit of a strange thing for somebody to say outside of the presence of an actual dog.

“Say what?”

“Woof.”

“Woof,” says Dinah again, meaningfully. Then, _“woof.”_

“Do I have to start calling you The Black Lab, or what?”

“No,” says Dinah, sounding scandalized. “What are you implying? That I’m a dog? Why, Barbara, I’m a lady through and through.”

“But you always seem to say woof.”

“I always seem to say woof because you always seem to be hanging around that studly Nightwing,” explains Dinah. She wolf-whistles. “Grayson is a whole lot of woof if you ask me.”

“Yeah, whatever,” sighs Babs, giving up on getting an actual answer. It’s probably just something the kids these days are saying. “I mean, he is a whole lot of woof, but my point is that I could say that with much more zest if I actually knew what it meant. Anyways, we’re going to be out of town for a week or two, so the Red Robin will be taking over as me.” 

Dinah gives a long, exaggerated sigh, neglecting to acknowledge the last bit. “Oh, what I wouldn’t give for some nice, hot sun and man. What I wouldn’t give to be _you,_ Barbara, dear.” 

“I’m a lucky woman, aren’t I?” says Babs, blushing a little. She’s really quite fond of Dick. 

“Don’t I know it.” Dinah sounds nostalgic. Babs wonders if she’s thinking about Oliver. “Anyways. Have fun, Babs. I’ll be good.” 

Babs starts to feel a little bad for Dinah, and she wonders if Dick intends for this to be a romantic trip.

“Hang, on,” she says into the phone. “I’ve got to go ask Dick something. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” says Dinah. A yawn betrays her fatigue. 

“Dick!” Babs calls. She hears him say something to Tim before responding.

“Yeah, babe?”

“What kind of trip is this supposed to be?”

“Meaning--?” 

“Is it supposed to be a romantic couple-y thing, or what?” 

“Whatever you want, babe. Why do you ask?” 

“I was on the phone with Dinah…” 

“Yes, sugar cookie?” 

“We should take her,” calls Babs after a moment’s consideration, opting to ignore the nickname _sugar cookie_ for now. “I mean, if you don’t want to spend that kinda money that’s totally fine, I’ll pay for her, but I was just thinking, if I deserve a break, why doesn’t she? She works hard.” 

“Of course, babe,” says Dick. “If you want to invite Dinah, invite Dinah. We’ll have to find somebody else to bust into the laundromat, though.”

Babs thinks about this. She’s already decided Helena would be no good for the job. Dick had suggested Wally earlier, but it would be frustrating to no end for Tim to have to track the criminals via old, crappy security camera with Flash running circles around them. “How about Steph?”

“Steph works. I can make the call.”

“Thanks, babe!” 

“Anytime, babe. And the tickets are all on me.” 

Babs grins to herself as she picks up the phone again. “Dinah, do you want to come with?”

Dinah is silent for a moment. “Shut. Up.” 

“I will do no such thing,” Babs declares. “You don’t even have to pay.”

“Shut up,” says Dinah again.

“No.”

 _“Girl,”_ says Dinah with much emphasis. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to be a third wheel.”

“You say that, Dinah, but I think we both know you would like that very much.”

Babs can practically see her grin through the phone. “You caught me.”

“Oracle knows all.” 

Dinah lets out an excited squeal. “Thank you so _much,_ Babs! You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

“I mean, you’ve done so much for me,” points out Babs. “All of the work you’ve done. This is just my way of thanking you.”

“I thought your way of thanking me was buying me a florist shop.”

Babs shrugs indifferently. “I mean, that too. How’s that going, by the way?”

“Really well,” says Dinah gleefully. “But, anyways, you’ve more than repaid me for any favors I’ve done you. Really, Babs. I could live a million lives and never once deserve your friendship.” 

“Not true,” Babs insists. “You’re one of the coolest ladies I know. Which is saying something. I know Cass, Helena, Powergirl, Wonder Woman, that Amy woman that helped Dick out that one time…” She trails off. “You get the gist. I know a lot of cool women.” 

“I hope you ladies have bathing suits,” calls Dick very loudly from the other room, “cuz we’re going to California!” 

Dinah gives another excited squeal. Babs joins her just for the hell of it. Dick is right, after all; what’s the worst thing that can happen? 

***

When Babs had first agreed to go on this vacation, she had forgotten how much of a pain in the ass airport security in a wheelchair could be.

She’s had a couple of disastrous trips to airports since her accident, but also a couple where the officers behind the screenings have been really nice and it’s not taken too long. 

Wheelchair users attempting to travel via airplane must, for example, be pat down. This has proven extremely irritating on many occasions, but Babs has, for the most part, gotten used to it. 

There’s also the fact that the people in line with her always seem really, really pissed off. They think she’s going to slow them down or something. Babs always wants to shout something along the lines of, _believe me, this is so much more annoying for me than it is you_ and yet, by some miracle, she never has. 

“Want me to push you?” Dinah offers as they navigate the bottom floor of the airport. They have yet to experience the tedious security check. 

“Nope,” says Babs, shaking her head. Dinah knows she doesn’t like people pushing her wheelchair and hardly ever offers anymore, contrary to Dick, who, whenever he makes such an offer, has a tendency to clarify that he’s well aware of her capabilities as a professional badass woman (because how else might one describe her job?) and is only offering out of courtesy and respect. 

Babs always denies such requests. She appreciates it from them, though. Especially Dick. He’s very sweet. 

“Suit yourself,” says Dinah.

“Dinah, I’m curious.” Babs turns to look at her friend. “Do they make you do extra security stuff, too, since you’re a metahuman?”

Dinah’s face morphs into a pained scowl. “God, yes. I had to fill out this whole form.”

Dick laughs. “One of the few occasions on which I’m glad not to have any superpowers.”

“I think the fact that you don’t even have any powers adds to the badassery,” muses Dinah. “Both of you.”

“Aw, thanks,” says Babs. 

Dick just grins stupidly and it occurs to Babs that he probably doesn’t hear this enough. 

“You could lie,” Babs points out. “You know, about being a metahuman on the form. It probably puts your secret identity on the line, at any rate.”

Dinah shrugs. “They don’t require you to say what your superpower is. Just that you have one. Then you sign a billion contracts saying that you won’t blow up any planes.” 

“That sounds about right.” 

“How long do we have to wait before boarding?” Dinah wants to know, changing the subject.

“Around three hours,” says Dick knowledgeably. “I’m going to try and get some contact with Tim so he can tell us whether he’s had any luck tracking the laundromat. We’ve got a whole secret code worked out so the fine folks of Gotham International Airport don’t get suspicious. Instead of calling criminals--well, criminals, we call them carrots. Hostages are rutabagas, and drugs are fingerlings. It’s really quite a fun system.” 

The mention of Dick’s little secret code coaxes a fond laugh out of Babs, who has been wondering about it ever since one incident of hearing him very seriously shout various phrases featuring many different varieties of root vegetable through the phone to Batman on one of their dates (they’d had Italian). 

“And what, exactly, happened to not bringing work on vacation?”

“This isn’t vacation, babe, this is the airport,” points out Dick. 

“So why can’t I do any work?”

“Because if you work any more you’re just going to turn into some skeleton or abnormally intelligent monkey with a typewriter,” supplies Dinah.

“Yeah, that,” agrees Dick, giving Dinah an approving nod. “So are we ready to brave security?”

“I am if you two are,” Babs tells them.

“Same here,” says Dinah, so they go. 

The security check isn’t amazing, because security at airports is hardly ever any fun, but it goes decently enough. More uneventfully than Babs had feared, but more tedious than she had hoped. Luckily she has her friends to keep her company.

“Are the carrots in the ground?” Dick demands into his phone once they’re through. Then, he scowls. “Fuck. Connection’s out.” 

“Take mine,” Babs suggests. “I have it set up to pick up signals extra efficiently.” 

“Could we get that on mine?” asks Dinah.

“Sure thing.” Babs smiles, glad to have a task to work on while they’re at the airport. “Give it to me.”

Dinah obliges, and they all exchange cell phones: Babs lending hers to Dick, Dinah’s to Babs, and Dick gives his to Dinah so that she can watch Netflix (this isn’t to say that she doesn’t take a minute or so to look through his selfies, an endeavor which Dick permits despite deep confusion as to why). 

“Not that I’m complaining,” says Dinah once they’ve all gotten seated at their terminal and are working on various tasks using their various devices, “but shouldn’t you be tinkering with Dick’s phone? He’s the one who has useful stuff to do.”

“I will when I’m done, but this will definitely come in handy on some sort of mission,” Babs points out. “We’ve got our earpieces, of course, but having an alternate method of communication could help out in a pinch.”

Dinah nods approvingly. “Sweet.” 

During the three hour waiting period, Babs busies herself with improving her friends’ phones, downloading and coding in all sorts of nifty features. It’s been a while since she’s used her skills purely for fun, and it proves relaxing. Dick spends the whole time attempting to communicate to Tim, who’s still stuck in the process of locating the laundromat. They’d originally thought it to be in New York, but this theory had proved flawed and Tim is starting over in his pursuit. 

Dinah, meanwhile, spends her time shopping. She purchases a bad romance novel which she intends to make fun of with Babs on the plane, a spare pair of earbuds, one of those weird airplane head pillows, and food. _Lots_ of food, which she brings for Babs and Dick to feast on while they work. 

“Frostie?” she asks perkily, offering a Wendy’s cup to Babs. “Or would you prefer a pumpkin spiced frappuccino? I also grabbed a frozen lemonade. Y’know, so we can all have something fun.” 

“Pumpkin spice?” requests Dick. Dinah accordingly places the drink in his hand. He takes a sip, grimaces. “God, this is sweet. Love it. Thanks, Di.”

Dinah gives him an energetic thumbs up before holding out the remaining drinks to Babs.

Babs selects the frozen lemonade, but it’s entirely melted by the time she’s finished working on Dinah and Dick’s phones and actually gets to drink it. This is fine, given that it still tastes like lemonade. Excessively sweet lemonade, but lemonade all the same. 

“Now, are you ladies ready for a six hour plane ride?” asks Dick with no shortage of enthusiasm once the three hours have passed, throwing his hands in the air with more zest than is strictly necessary.

“Yeah!” cheers Dinah.

“No,” says Babs at the same time. “Put me on the phone with Tim for a moment, babe.”

“We’ve got five minutes,” Dick objects, handing her the phone nonetheless. 

“Tim,” Babs greets upon receiving the device. 

“Yo, Barbara,” says Tim.

“So, any intel?” Babs waits anxiously for the response.

“We’re closing in,” Tim tells her. “It’s in the United States.”

“That doesn’t narrow it down all that much,” Babs points out with an exasperated sigh. She would have already had the location, she’s sure. She doesn’t say as much, not wanting to wound Tim’s pride. He’s a brilliant hacker, anyhow.

“Actually, it sort of does,” Tim disputes. “There are a hundred and ninety-five countries on Earth, Barbara. You should be thanking me profusely.”

“Whatever,” says Babs. “Thanks for taking over, Tim.” 

“It’s been my pleasure.” 

“Um, Barb?” says Dick, calling Babs’s attention away from the phone. “We’re boarding.” 

“Oh! Right! Bye, Tim,” says Babs into the phone before handing it back to Dick. “I’ll call you when I’m off the plane. 

“Who’s ready for vacay?” chirps Dinah once she’s off.

“I know I am,” says Babs.

“Hell yeah!” agrees Dick.

With this they board the plane, a process which, like security, is complicated by Babs’s being in a wheelchair. They manage, though, and to Dick’s childlike delight each of the seats has a small movie screen and a selection to choose from. 

“Hmm,” hums Dinah thoughtfully as she navigates through the options. “Mostly stuff for kids. We’ve got _The Little Mermaid_.”

“I’ve never seen that one,” Dick notes. 

“Oh, you’re not missing out on much,” Babs assures him. 

Dinah looks at her like a wounded puppy. “You’re telling me you don’t like _The Little Mermaid_?” 

“I was a fan of _The Princess And The Frog_ myself,” Babs informs them, a hint of superiority in her voice. 

“But they spend most of the movie as frogs,” cries Dinah. “Frogs, I tell you.”

“No shit, it’s in the title.” 

“Right. That.” Dinah selects _The Princess And The Frog_ on her little screen, getting ready to hit the _play_ button. “Dick, you wanna watch?”

“Naw, I was actually gonna take a nap.” Dick yawns, spreading out his arms like a large bird. “Besides, only two earbuds. You ladies share.”

“Have a nice nap, sweet pea.” Babs reaches across Dinah’s shoulder to give Dick’s a pat. Dinah administers an earbud and they get to watching. 

Babs has always been a fan of this movie, but it’s almost better than she remembers. What Dinah says about the main couple spending the majority of the movie as amphibians is, admittedly, a valid complaint, but when one overlooks this it’s really quite a charming film. 

Not that Babs gets to see the whole thing. Apparently Dick had been accurate in his deduction that she needs some rest, as she spends the last half of the film--and a good chunk of the flight--asleep against Dinah’s shoulder. 

A couple of hours later, Babs feels somebody tap her shoulder. She opens her eyes bleary and finds Dick looking down at her fondly. She turns her head and winds up pushing her face directly into the side of Dinah’s neck.

“Wha--?” 

Dinah laughs, pushing her into an upright position. “We’re there, you dope.” 

Babs blinks a couple more times. The sky outside is dark and dotted with stars.

“Welcome to San Francisco, Barb” says Dick warmly. “Well. San Jose. But it’s close enough.” 

***

They consider spending the rest of the night at a hotel, but as Babs and Dick have both gotten reasonable amounts of sleep on the plane and San Francisco is just so much more exciting than San Jose, they decide to drive the rest of the way that night. Babs makes good on her promise to call Tim, but his connection is spotty and Babs ultimately fails to glean any useful information, a fact by which she is greatly irritated. 

Dick drives while Babs makes her call since Dinah is nearly dead on her feet, and because he’s on some sort of California high which, while being adorable, is greatly puzzling to Babs. San Francisco is just Gotham without all the crime and the gag-worthy smog in the air with beaches and chocolate and seemingly infinite quantities of sourdough bread...okay, so it’s entirely possible that his excitement is justified. 

The hotel they check into is, to Dick’s never-ending amusement, called _Dinah’s_ and far nicer than Babs had bargained for. They notice a great many Teslas in the parking lot. 

Since Dinah had let Babs sleep on her for a good four hours, Babs returns the favor by letting Dinah lean against her wheelchair as they walk. She yawns every two seconds, and suddenly Babs wants nothing more than to check into their room and get some sleep. They’ve managed to get away with booking a single room, since Dick and Babs can share a bed. 

Soon, Dick is faceplanted back-up into the left side of his and Babs’s bed. Babs has no clue how he breathes. Surely the pillow would suffocate him, right? Wrong, apparently. Not only does Dick seem to be breathing alright, he doesn’t even snore. This is an anomaly Babs has been trying and failing to solve for the entirety of their relationship.

Such a thing cannot be said for Dinah. She snores. Loudly. Babs wishes she’d thought to bring ear plugs. 

Tim calls her back, and she heads into the bathroom as to not wake her fellow travellers. 

“Hey, Tim,” says Babs. “We’re in our room now.” She tries to keep quiet.

“Okay,” says Tim, sounding rather indifferent. “So, I’ve narrowed the potential locations down to New Jersey, California, Alaska, Wyoming, or Utah. Personally I’m hoping for Utah. I’ve always wanted to visit."

“Tim, you realize that you wouldn’t even have to go anywhere.” 

“Barbara,” says Tim crisply, “I would like to visit Utah.”

“Okay,” says Babs, because the issue seems far too trivial to argue over. 

When she gets back into the main room, she’s not pleased with the idea of having to awkwardly slither into the bed on her hands and elbows. She sighs quietly and beings the process when Dick, who’s apparently not so asleep after all, grabs onto her hands and pulls her effortlessly up onto the bed. 

“G’night, babe,” he says sleepily.

“Goodnight.”

 _I’m a lucky woman,_ she’d told Dinah the day before. 

Boy, is she ever. 

***

San Francisco, while not being one of those designated beach towns where one might find women in swimwear so revealing Babs has to wonder how it even stays put and men hauling large surfboards with them everywhere they go, it does have beaches. 

Babs, Dinah, and Dick have, after a morning of gleefully feasting on the fruits of the all-you-can-eat breakfast bar and utilizing the place’s very nice gym facilities, opted to spend time at one of these beaches.

Since they’re all superheroes, and it’s a well-known fact that superheroes wake up freakishly early, they’re done with their respective morning routines by eight. The plan is to stay at the beach until lunchtime, then find a nice restaurant (seafood restaurant, Dinah insists) to eat at. 

“Woof,” says Dinah once Dick has changed into his bathing suit. “Abs.”

“Hey, he’s mine,” Babs huffs, shooting her a glare and jabbing her in the side with an elbow. 

“You have abs, too,” Dick points out, because apparently his ears don’t just magically lose all functionality when Dinah and Babs feel like girl-talking about him. “What’s so special about mine?” 

He flexes nonetheless, a cocky grin spreading over his face. 

“Silly,” Babs notes. 

“I _am_ silly,” Dick agrees, nodding emphatically. 

Thus, they head off to the beach. Out of the three of them, Dinah is the most excited. Babs is excited, too. Dick’s promised to carry her into the water, but for the most part Babs is just happy to read in a different setting. Dinah teases her for as much, but Babs is content with her books, thank you very much. She’d be lying to say that she’s not a little bit annoyed by the fact that Dinah is going to be spending an extended period of time in the water with a shirtless Dick, but she’ll get over it. 

“Let’s build a sandcastle,” suggests Dick when he, Babs, and Dinah have chosen a spot to lay their blanket. Dinah lays casually across the length of it, stretching out. “But first, Dinah, you need some sunblock. You too, Barb.”

Dinah’s nose wrinkles. “Ugh. Sunblock? Who do you think I am, an old woman?”

“No, but you’ll look like one if you don’t take proper care of your skin,” scolds Dick. He pulls out a tube of the stuff and places a glob daintily on her nose, then proceeding to do the same for Babs. Dinah scowls playfully at him. 

“So, you said something about a sandcastle?” Babs prompts. Dick’s eyes light up.

“Oh, yeah!” he says enthusiastically. “I had a thought that we could work together, Dinah and I could fill the buckets and you could arrange them…” His face falls comically. “Oh, shit! I didn’t bring any buckets!” 

“It’s okay,” Babs attempts to appease her boyfriend. “We don’t need buckets to build a sandcastle. Heck, we don’t even need to build a sandcastle--”

“I’m so sorry,” Dick groans, burying his face in his hands in despair.

“Is this him being hormonal, or--?” says Dinah, looking rather amused. 

“I just wanted to make this trip perfect,” Dick explains, sounding crestfallen. “I’ll go buy us some buckets.”

“You really don’t need to,” calls Dinah, but Dick is already turning towards the row of storefronts. He chucks the tube of sunblock behind him.

“Make sure to use that!” he calls.

Babs obliges, taking the tube and beginning to apply it to herself. It’s something to do while Dick is gone, anyways.

“What a guy,” sighs Dinah. “So upset over buckets.” 

“I wish he’d just stayed!” Babs throws out her hands, exasperated. “We really, really don’t need buckets.”

She watches as Dinah’s eyes dart over to the other beachgoers. “Watch this,” she says. She strolls over to a man who, for some reason, has no kids and an abundance of buckets. She says something, flips her hair, and then the man nods enthusiastically and hands her three buckets. She returns with her head held high, smirking.

“Dick’s going to be so sad,” says Babs. “He likes to be useful.” 

“Yeah, he’ll get over it,” says Dinah decisively, beginning to throw handfuls of sand into the largest one. Babs busies herself applying the sunblock.

When Dick returns, he’s holding a net full of what looks like kids’ beach toys. Namely buckets.

“I’ve got buckets,” he calls happily. Then he sees Dinah, already yielding buckets. “Hey! Where’d you get those?”

“I’m very charming, you know,” she quips back. 

“Of course two epic superheroines don’t need _my_ help in the acquisition of buckets,” muses Dick. “I should donate them to charity. Or to Batman. Do you think he needs buckets? We could call them the Bat Buckets.”

“Oh, you,” scoffs Babs, pulling him in for a kiss. “Give me one of those.”

All sorrows seemingly forgotten, Dick procures a bucket from the bag and hands it to Babs. It’s plastic and feels a little flimsy, yet it’s shaped in a way which makes for a breathtaking sandcastle. 

(Of course, a kid stumbles into and knocks over the aforementioned sandcastle. But that’s just the nature of sandcastle-building.)

Once they’ve finished mourning the majesty of their sandcastle, taking care to send a proud photo to everybody they know--Alfred in particular seems to enjoy it--and finish playing in the water, Dick making good on his promise to carry her in, they bring up Google Maps and attempt to find a good seafood place.

This is a difficult task, not because there’s a lack of seafood restaurants in the Bay Area, but because there are far too many for them to choose. They decide there and then that, throughout the trip, they’ll make an effort to visit each one.

Babs enjoys a lobster, Dick choosing a massive salmon and Dinah opting for a hollowed loaf of sourdough filled with chowder which she claims is the best she’s ever had. Babs is a little jealous, so Dinah offers her a taste. 

Babs accepts gratefully, and they decide to switch meals for a bite or two. As she’s trying to spoon a good portion of the soup out of the bread, however, Babs accidentally knocks it over with the utensil, spilling chowder all over her lap. 

“Ack!” she squeaks, scowling down at her now ruined pants. “I’m so sorry, Dinah. You can finish mine.”

“That’s fine. I mostly just wanted the bread bowl, at any rate,” excuses Dinah, happily grabbing the hollow loaf from Babs’s placemat and ripping at it with a zest that only seafood can bring out of her. 

“Babe, I’ll go grab napkins,” says Dick very seriously, darting up like a man on a mission for the second time that day. Babs thinks he might be missing the heroism of being Nightwing a little bit. 

“Now my jeans are going to smell,” Babs complains. “Rotten clam, just festering in Dick’s and my luggage. For a week. Yuck.”

“I’m sure the hotel has washers,” Dinah points out. 

“Out of order,” says Babs glumly; she remembers seeing a sign declaring as much walking out that morning. 

“Damn.” Dinah gives her a sympathetic grimace as Dick returns in a blaze of glory with a fistful of napkins. “Well, here’s the Boy Napkins to the rescue.” 

Should they be making references to Dick’s superheroism in public? Probably not. Babs can’t currently bring herself to care. 

“Thanks, babe,” says Babs, accepting a couple of napkins from Dick. 

“Anytime, babe,” he says, saluting her with a grin. Thus, they begin wiping the chowder off of her jeans. This pursuit is one that does not go all that well. 

“To the laundromat,” Dick declares, shooting up and pointing his finger north. “Or--?” He tries west, frowning. “Well, we’ll find one. Dinah, we can drop you off at the hotel if you want.”

“I’ll come with, if it’s all the same to you guys,” says Dinah happily. “Babs, can I take your lobster to go?” 

Fortunately, Babs is wearing her bathing suit underneath her clothes, so there’s no need for her to wheel around San Francisco in chowder-ey jeans. Mercifully, wearing a bathing suit in public is much more socially acceptable than wearing one’s underclothes in the exact same scenario, regardless of the fact that they have more or less the same amounts of coverage. 

They stop at the hotel so that they can also bring the clothes that each of them had worn yesterday to the laundromat, since it seems ridiculous to only wash Babs’s pants and call it a load. They throw their suitcases in the back of the car so they can return the clothes to their rightful positions when finished. 

“Okay,” says Dick decisively as they drive around Dinah at the wheel so Dick can locate a good self-serve laundromat. “Most laundromats are open twenty-four seven, at least if they’re self-serve, which is what we’re going for here. So we can basically go wherever we want.”

Babs gazes out the window, enjoying the scenery. She can see a little bit of ocean in the distance. She opens the window, poking her head out, partly to air the stench of seafood out of the car and partly because she likes the salty air.

“Alright,” says Dinah. “They’ve got to be a dime a dozen around here. I’m just going to drive around for a little until we see one.”

“Sounds good,” says Babs. Dinah clicks off her phone and slips it in her pocket. “I think I’m going to give Tim a call. It’s been a bit too long since I’ve checked in with him.”

“Good thinking,” Dick agrees with an approving nod. “Tell him I said hi.” 

Babs presses Tim’s contact, waits for him to pick up.

“Hello, Barbara,” he says, sounding distracted.

“Heya, Tim. Did you like our sandcastle?”

“It was rudimentary,” chimes in a faraway voice. Babs realizes it’s Damian.

“Ouch,” she jokes. 

“Damian! Get out of here,” snaps an irritated Tim. “I’m _working_ on something.” 

“Well, as Richard has decided himself beyond sparring with me and instead relocated to California, I find it necessary to supervise the ongoings of each individual in the household in order to ensure efficiency.” _Translation: he’s lonely without his big brother._

“Get the hell out, I’m tracking a laundromat,” mutters Tim.

Babs thinks she hears Damian mutter something defiant before obeying. 

“Sorry about that,” says Tim apologetically. 

“Don’t apologize, it’s good to hear from him. How is everyone?”

“Oh, beyond Damian, who seems to have spun into some sort of existential crisis ever since Dick left yesterday, pretty much just as usual. Bruce is very broody. I’ve been working on the project, of course.” 

“Tell them I said hi,” Babs tells them. 

“You realize that people hardly ever say hi when you ask them to, right?”

Babs bites back a sigh. “Yes, Tim. Oh, and by the way, Dick says hi.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“Well, of course _you_ say hi when people ask you to.”

“Rules with exceptions are hardly ever very good rules.”

Tim gives an exasperated huff. Dinah pulls into a parking spot. Babs slides into her wheelchair through the car door, continuing to talk to Tim. 

“So, have you found the laundromat?”

“Yes. I have.” Tim sounds very proud of himself.

“Where?”

“I don’t think you’ll quite believe it,” TIm replies. He’s taken on the voice of somebody who knows something Babs doesn’t.

“I think I will,” Babs assures him, following Dinah and Dick over to a thoroughly cobwebbed sign which reads, _LAUNDROMAT (OPEN 24 HOURS!)_

“Doesn’t look very open,” notices Dick with a worried frown.

“Well, there are people inside,” Dinah points out.

“I’m sure it is,” Babs tells them, wheeling over to the door. She suddenly realizes that this particular laundromat looks extremely familiar: she’s seen it on her computer screen. The only difference is the abundance of burly, tattooed men inside. They have guns...Babs falls into a stunned silence.

“Barbara?” Tim addresses.

“Oh. My _God,”_ Babs breathes. 

“What?” Dinah, happily oblivious, seems to be quite amused by the situation. 

“You’re right, I _don’t_ believe it,” Babs tells Tim, ignoring Dinah.

“I assume you have run into the laundromat in question.” Tim, like Dinah, seems to be holding back laughter.

“Oh, shit,” says Dick, his face falling as he realizes the situation. “The hell were the odds of _that?”_

“Wait...is that _the_ laundromat?” gasps Dinah, pointing an accusatory finger at the door. Babs nods bleakly. “Oh my God. That’s actually insane.” 

All four of them begin to laugh. 

“Wait! Get away from the door, you idiots,” spits an irritated Tim. “They’ll see you.”

“Right.” Babs initiates the process of vigorously wheeling out of the criminals’ line of sight. 

“I’ll be right back,” says Dinah, beginning to sprint over to the back of their car.

“Wait, Dinah--” Dick tries to stop her. “Aaaand she’s gone.”

“Ugh.” Babs slumps down in her wheelchair. “Well, what do we do now, Tim?"

“Well, while I’m deeply remorseful to be putting a damper on your vacation time, there’s no way I’m sending Stephanie out there when you’re less than a mile from the scene.”

“Of course.” Babs grins, beginning to get excited. She's been enjoying her vacation, but she’s the definition of a workaholic and the presence of some criminals whose asses she gets to help kick is all too exciting. 

“So much for no work,” mutters Dick. 

At this moment, Dinah sprints out of a public restroom Babs hadn’t even noticed the presence of all decked out in her Black Canary getup, fishnet stockings and all. “What?” she asks when she notices Babs and Dick staring at her, bemused. “I come prepared.” 

“Welp, I guess it’s time for The ‘Wing,” Dick decides. He’s trying to sound reluctant, but Babs can see the excitement seeping through in a goofy grin he can’t quite hide. 

“Tim, can you hook me up to the live video feed?” asks Babs, because there’s no way she’s not helping.

“Depends,” says Tim. “If I do, do I get to hang up?”

“Yes.”

“Then sure.”

Babs can’t quite decide whether she should be exasperated or amused at the fact that both Dinah and Dick had felt it necessary to pack superhero gear. It’s certainly lucky, if nothing else. Within five minutes they are standing in front of Babs with heroic stances. Babs reaches into her purse to pull out her earpieces when she realizes there’s really no point. 

“Okay, so we should start with having Nightwing go in to intimida--” she starts, only for Dinah to throw open the door of the laundromat and sprint through.

“I’ll clean _your_ clothes!” she shouts.

“B-but that doesn’t even make sense,” Babs protests, only to be ignored. 

The criminals whip around, having the decency to look mildly surprised. 

“Oh, bitch, you’re going down,” snarls a bald one in a leather jacket with a tattoo of a python on his forehead. Luckily he doesn’t have a gun. 

“What did they even do?” asks Dick, looking down at Babs. She shrugs. “Oh well.”

Then he’s also bursting through the glass doors with full zest. “Not on my watch!” he shouts. 

Babs hears a gunshot. She looks down at her phone, on with the security footage. She silently curses not having brought her laptop. One of the men has shot at Dinah, having missed only narrowly. 

“Do you know who I am?” yells Dick roughly. “I’m Nightwing, and _you’re_ going down!” 

He then begins running towards one of the men, whisking around him and pulling him into a half nelson. “Canary, grab the gun!” 

Dinah kicks away from the man who currently has her restrained, heaving him to the side in one powerful flick of her wrist and leaping towards the man Dick’s struggling to keep a hold on. She throws a foot in the air at the weapon. Babs is pretty sure she breaks his hand, and the gun falls to the floor with a _clatter_ she can hear from her position outside. 

“Shouldn’t you be in Blüdhaven or some shit?” howls one of the men, throwing and landing a punch at Dick’s face. His nose begins to squirt blood. Dinah looks alarmed. Babs looks through the glass doors, abandoning her phone. 

“Not when societal menaces like you are here in San Francisco,” quips Dick back, but it comes out sounding all wrong with his nose broken. Babs realizes that he’s losing. 

Then, Dinah leaps onto one of the washing machines, sailing down on the man holding Dick with a yell. All three of them tumble into a heap on the ground. Dick struggles wildly to escape, but one of the free men lands a kick to his face and presses a foot down on his head, knocking him out. 

Dinah’s head whirls around desperately as she punches a gun out of a man who had been pointing it at Nightwing. Her left eye is a shade of red that’s strangely reminiscent of the lobster Babs had been enjoying just earlier.

Realizing that she doesn’t have much of a choice, Babs throws open the door and wheels in. 

“No,” Dinah, who’s in the midst of wrestling with one of the criminals, yepls. “You ca--” She’s cut off by a kick to the gut, instead letting out a sickly groan.

“Oh, yes I can,” Babs shoots back, feeling glad that her wheelchair has been rigged to run fast. 

Against one of the walls is a vending machine. Babs wheels herself vigorously towards it, trying to see if there are any drinks inside that come in glass bottles. She fumbles for a coin purse. She throws her elbow back at a man who comes lunging at her. 

Hands shaking, Babs realizes that a man is limping vigorously towards her. “C’mon, c’mon,” she mutters, grabbing for the bottle of Coke that comes out of the machine. She takes it just as the man is advancing towards her, shaking it quickly before popping the lid off with her teeth.

The move has the desired effect as Babs covers most of the opening with her thumb, spraying the drink right in the man’s eye. 

“Ack!” He stumbles back. Babs pours out the rest of the Coke, smashing the bottle in half over on the man’s head with enough force that he passes out with a quiet moan. 

“Woo!” Dinah cheers, now wrestling with two of the criminals. 

It’s rather hard to navigate around the criminal’s comatose body with a wheelchair, but Babs manages, wheeling towards Dick. One of the men fighting Dinah loses interest in her, instead pointing his gun at Dick’s forehead.

“No!” Babs shouts, grabbing it out of his hand with a force she hadn’t even known she possessed, swinging the gun’s butt at his kneecap. He stumbles. Babs shoots the gun at the wall a couple of times, hoping she can drain it of bullets. 

“Help!” calls a strained voice Babs doesn’t recognize. 

“They’ve got rutabagas!” shouts Dinah in shock as she drives her heel into the gut of one of the criminals. “In the back!”

“No, we do--” starts one of the men as he gets back up off the floor. His eyes widen as he realizes what Dinah means, then: “oh, don’t you dare!” He lunges to protect the door to the back room, his face scrunched up in fury.

“Help us!” cries the voice again. It sounds like that of a child.

Babs tightens her grip on the Coke bottle. “I’ll go get the kid. You hold ‘em off,” she yells at Dinah, not waiting for a response as she swings a punch at the man guarding the door.

The guy winces, stumbles back a little, but is not otherwise phased. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” snarls the man. “Not if you value the use of your upper limbs, too.” He flashes a nasty smile.

“Welp, that’s it!” Babs grunts. This man can’t get away with breaking her boyfriend’s nose, that’s for sure, and now he’s poking fun at her disability. _Oh boy, is he gonna get it._

Grabbing onto the soda bottle with both hands, Babs swipes the sharp end at the man’s arms. Blood begins to drip from his shoulder, but he still has no trouble with hurling himself at Babs, throwing her out of her wheelchair. 

He scowls over her, holding her to the floor with his body, jabbing an elbow to her chest with one arm and using the other to restrain her left hand. The bottle shatters to the floor, one shard now sticking out of Babs’s right wrist.

Unfortunately for the man, Babs has insane upper body strength and is able to shake the elbow off, propping herself up with her own and throwing a punch to the criminal’s face. All this accomplishes is that now blood is dripping from his nose to her throat. She regrets not wearing more to this fight. 

Dinah screeches furiously from the other side of the room, seemingly trying to use her Canary Cry before the man she’s wrestling with shoves a fist in her mouth. Her eyes widen with shock as she drives her teeth into the guy’s hand, but to no avail.

This gives Babs an idea. She throws herself towards the man’s face, biting down on his nose. He squawks. It’s undoubtedly the grossest thing Babs has ever put her mouth on (and she’s eaten Dick’s cooking before), but it works, the guy startled away from her.

“Get off of me, freak show!” he shouts. Babs obeys, only to headbutt him in the chest. He’s thrown back. Babs grabs the empty gun from the floor, using the end to injure the man’s nose even more than before. He falls back.

Babs pants, exhausted. There’s no time for that, though. There’s only one man left now, the one wrestling with Dinah. Babs, with more precision than she would have prided herself as having before, throws the gun at his face. It lands, distracting him enough that Dinah is able to drive her foot violently into his groin. He falls to the floor with a _crunch_ , bite-marks and drops of blood littering his hand. 

Then, her and Dinah make eye contact.

“Babs, are you okay?” Dinah pants, rushing over. She kicks the glass shards to the side, away from them, and turns the wheelchair upright. “That was awesome!” 

“Forget me,” Babs gasps, propping herself up on her hands and grabbing onto the arms of the wheelchair, letting Dinah help her pull herself up. “What about the hostages? What about Dick?” 

Dinah turns to face Dick. Blood has been pooling underneath his nose for some time now, faint bruises already beginning to form. 

“Holy shit, Dick!” Babs wheels towards him, wincing when her arms protest after all that exhaustion. “I hope he’s alright.” 

“He’s broken his nose plenty of times,” Dinah assures her with a comforting pat on the shoulder. “Just give him some time to come to. I’ll go get the hostages.”

Babs nods her consent, running a hand through Dick’s hair. She bites down on her lip; while it’s true that Dick has suffered much, much worse, it still makes her uneasy. 

She checks for a pulse--obviously he’s still alive, but feeling the steady push of blood beneath the skin of his throat makes Babs feel much better. 

Then, Dinah returns from where she’s disappeared into the back room, a small child shaking beneath both hands. A boy and a girl.

“W-who are you?” asks the girl, wide-eyed with fear. 

“I’m The Black Canary,” says Dinah calmly. “I’m a superhero. Me and my friends here have just rescued you from those baddies.”

“I don’t believe you,” says the boy, squinting suspiciously at her. Babs notices he’s limping with a pang. “Superheros live in Gotham.” 

“I _do_ live in Gotham,” Dinah confirms. “I’m just on vacation.”

“Yeah, Dustin,” adds the girl snottily. She prods Dick’s body gently with her foot. “Is he asleep?”

“Something like that,” Dinah says, her gaze momentarily flicking away from the kids’ faces. 

Then Dick gives a low grunt, and his hand twitches. 

“D--Nightwing,” Babs breathes, grinning with relief. “You feeling okay?”

“Why am I in a laundromat?” Dick mutters, wiping at his nose. “Ew. Bloody.” 

“I don’t like blood,” Dustin confides in Dinah, eyes wide with worry.

“Then let’s get outside,” Dinah prompts. She turns to the little girl. “What’s your name?”

“Ella,” the hostage mutters, eyes fixed to the ground in a sudden fit of uncertainty. 

“Well, Ella, I’ll get you back home in no time at all. Now tell me, are you two siblings?”

Both kids nod.

“Well, that’s great. I wish I’d had siblings,” says Dinah. Babs admires how she’s handling them.

“No, you don’t,” Ella mutters, shooting a death glare at her brother. Dustin’s face falls.

“It’s okay, she doesn’t mean that,” Dinah assures Dustin as they walk outside, now holding both kids’ hands. Babs gives her a grateful smile before turning back to Dick. 

“Ugh.” Dick scowls as he reaches a hand to his head, looking up at Babs in mild confusion. “Where did the kids come from?”

“Hostages,” says Babs, leaning down to the best of her ability to press a kiss to Dick’s forehead.

“What kind of monster takes kids hostage?” Dick demands.

“I don’t know.” 

Dick looks around, viewing the mostly unconscious bodies around them. “What do we do now?” he asks groggily. “We don’t know the police officers around here.”

“We can still send in an anonymous tip,” Babs points out. “Hon, do you need an Advil?” She grabs her purse.

“No,” Dick insists, waving it off. “I can handle it. I’m fine. See?” As if to demonstrate, he scrambles to his feet, tripping nearly immediately and balancing himself on the nearest wall. 

“Yes,” says Babs placidly. “Now, take an Advil, damn it.” 

“I don’t need it, promise,” Dick insists. Babs sighs but doesn’t protest, instead working to pluck the shard of glass from her wrist. Dick’s eyes widen. “Babe, did you get hurt?”

“Only a little,” Babs promises. “I think my shoulder’s a little bruised. And my chest. That’s about it.” 

Dick’s face fell. “Babe! Did you have to fight?”

“Did she ever,” chimes in Dinah, who’s returning. “Called the kids’ parents over. Apparently they’re really rich, which explains the hostage thing. The mom tried to offer me money, but I wouldn’t take it. I got hugged. Anyways,” she says, turning to Babs, “she was a total badass. I think she nearly bit that guy’s nose off.” 

“That guy?” Dick points to a man with a noticeable bite mark around his nose.

“Yep,” says Babs. “It was nothing, though.”

“It was great,” Dinah argues. “Amazing, I tell you. High-five?” 

Babs grins, taking the high-five. 

“We’d better split,” Dinah continues. “The parents of the hostages are calling the cops, and we have to be out of there before they come.”

“Plus we need some ice,” Babs adds. Dinah’s eye is already bruising, and she just knows Dick’s nose must hurt like hell. Not to mention the large bruises undoubtedly formed over her own back, shoulder, and chest. 

“I’m glad you’re okay, babe,” says Dick, pulling Babs into a tight hug. She’s taken aback, but soon returns the hug, grinning into Dick’s neck. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she rebuttals. 

“And I’m glad you’re both okay,” calls Dinah distractedly, “but we’ve really gotta scoot, I can see cop cars…” 

This does it. For once Babs doesn’t argue as Dick grabs the back of her wheelchair and runs like he’s trying to win a marathon. They’re promptly in the car. 

“Take off your clothes,” Babs orders them. “If the police are around, we don’t want them recognizing us by our outfits.”

They obey; it’s a fairly easy task, given that they all are still wearing bathing suits underneath whatever clothes they have left. Dick throws the Nightwing suit behind him, quickly followed by his mask and Dinah’s fishnet stockings. And then they’re off.

***

The rest of the trip, once they’ve gotten some ice on their various injuries, is actually quite fun. They take care to visit the Titans Tower since it’s nearby, but they also go to all of the typical San Francisco tourist destinations: the Ghirardelli chocolate factory, the Golden Gate Bridge, Fisherman’s Wharf, and Alcatraz. They also ride in a cable car and buy a loaf of sourdough bread shaped like an alligator.

All in all, the fight at the laundromat is just a blip. The only negative repercussions are their injuries and the fact that Babs ends up having to throw out that pair of pants. 

“So, did everybody have fun?” asks Dick on the plane ride back. They’d only ended up staying for a week, but this had in no way hindered them in seeing all the sights. As it turns out, when your group is composed of three energetic vigilantes, sightseeing is no real chore. 

“Yes,” Dinah and Babs say at the same time.

“You know, it’s weird,” says Babs, “usually when we go on vacation, things go horribly wrong. This time they only went a little wrong.”

“A nice change of pace,” Dinah adds.

“I’m really tired, though,” Dick admits with a yawn. “I don’t know what it is with me and napping on planes.”

“You’re turning into an old man,” Dinah supplies. Babs whacks her playfully on the arm with her backhand. 

“Dinah, be nice.” 

“No, it’s okay,” says Dick. “I _am_ turning into an old man. Soon I’ll fulfill my destiny of becoming the family Alfred. He can mentor me. We’ll have epic training montagues.”

“You’re not that old quite yet, sweetie,” Babs assures him.

“Good to hear it, good to hear it.” Dick yawns. “When the flight attendant comes around, ask them for extra peanuts.”

“Peanuts?” asks Dinah, turning to him. “You actually like airplane peanuts?”

“I thought everyone did,” Dick replies, a look of confusion spreading on his face. “Babs?”

“I mean, they’re alright,” Babs offers. “I’d rather have the pretzels, though.”

Dinah nods at her approvingly. “See? _Somebody_ has a good taste in airplane snacks.” 

Now that their injuries have all had time to develop, Dick and Dinah look rather scary, Dick with the area around his face entirely purple and his nose slightly crooked, Dinah with a black eye. People had given them some strange looks all throughout the trip. They’re used to it and aren’t bothered, though; really, it’s kind of funny. 

“Does everyone come home from vacations with some kind of facial bruise?” asks Dick. 

“Dick, hon, look around you.” Babs motions to the people in the seats all around them, alluding to a strange lack of people with bruises on their face.

“How do we know those people aren’t going on vacation from California to Gotham?” Dinah defends him. “They’ll come back looking all beat up, I promise.” 

“Too bad we won’t get to see.” Dick yawns again, spreading out his arms. One lands around Babs’s shoulder. “Although I really don’t see why anybody would voluntarily come to Gotham.”

Babs thinks about this. “Yeah, I don’t either,” she admits.

Dinah looks thoughtful. “I mean, you know what they say. The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. I can see how, if you live in a more rural area, you may want to visit the city every once in a while.”

“That makes sense,” says Babs.

“Yeah, I still don’t see it,” Dick decides with a shrug. “Now, Dinah, do you still have that neck pillow?” 

“You betcha.” Dinah grins as she rummages around her carry-on, pulling out the aforementioned neck pillow and handing it to Dick.

“That’s better,” says Dick as he curls it around his neck. “Now, ladies, let me get my beauty sleep.” 

Soon he’s sleeping. In typical Dick fashion, he doesn’t snore, much to the appreciation of everybody else on the plane. He _does_ lean against Babs, though. Not in a delicate let-me-rest-my-head-on-your-shoulder way, either. He’s one precarious topple away from crushing her. He slouches forward, taking Babs with him from the way his arm is wrapped around her. 

Babs giggles as she amends the situation, using the palm of her hand to push him back. 

“We really tired him out, didn’t we?” Dinah grins. 

“I think we did,” Babs responds, poking Dick playfully on the cheek. He doesn’t wake up. “You know, I’m glad he convinced me to do this. It was lots of fun.”

“It was,” Dinah agrees. “Again, thank you so much for inviting me.”

“No, thank _you_ for coming,” says Babs. 

“I don’t know, it was sort of weird living in relative peace for pretty much a whole week,” Dinah muses, “but like you said. It was fun. I’d like to do it again some time.”

“We should make this an annual thing. Maybe next year we can go to Salt Lake City to make Tim jealous.”

Dinah laughs. “I would like that.” 

And thus, their adventures are over. When they get back to Gotham, they are faced with the dilemma of Helena having ‘accidentally’ killed a bunch of human traffickers (her only defense is “oops”) and _that’s_ a nightmare to sort out. 

It’s the kind of chaos Babs can get behind, though. She wouldn’t have decided to go into the crime-fighting business if this kind of thing wasn’t at least a little bit fun. 

That’s not to say that she doesn’t miss vacation.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading, and happy Halloween :) comments and kudos are appreciated


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